


Unravelled on the knife-edge

by purplejabberwocky



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Canon-Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplejabberwocky/pseuds/purplejabberwocky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'In that moment Erskine had hated Skulduggery more than anything. Hated him for forcing Erskine to give more than he’d had. Hated him for taking even that away.</p><p>And then he had hated himself ... hated the man he'd become who didn't even deserve the chance for redemption.'</p><p>MAJOR BOOK 9 SPOILERS. Redemption fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unravelled on the knife-edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmaraqWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaraqWolf/gifts).



The pain was so intense that for a moment Erskine thought he was back in the grip of Darquesse’s magic, and then a moment later realised he couldn’t be. It hurt, but it was a different kind of hurt. That was a hurt of the body, and it had dragged his mind along with it until even he knew how badly he’d broken, and didn’t have anything—anyone—to anchor him, let alone any pride left to try and be a better man.

This was a hurt of the soul. A hurt that felt as though it reached deep inside him, so deeply that he couldn’t even scream, as it scoured away parts of him and left scattered thoughts behind. It seemed to take an eternity. He didn’t know whether it was.

Skulduggery was a better man. Whatever had driven him to try and reason with Vile of all people, Skulduggery was a better man who still had something left to sacrifice. Erskine hadn’t been surprised when he’d stepped forward.

Somehow, he _had_ been surprised when Skulduggery had picked him up and thrown him into the Accelerator.

 _You said,_ Erskine had heard him explain to the Engineer, _that the soul had to be willingly given. Not that it had to be my own._

In that moment Erskine had hated him more than anything. Hated him for forcing Erskine to give more than he’d had. Hated him for taking even that away.

Hated him for forcing him to be a better man, even though he _wasn’t_ , because it wasn’t his choice and even then it was going to save the world but it hadn’t been his _choice_. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt he had a choice. Choosing not to sacrifice himself—the only one he’d had left, and even that was gone. He’d hated Skulduggery, so much, for talking about redemption and then not even giving him that chance, the chance to take his life and try to rebuild it with _something_.

And then Erskine had hated himself, because he’d never given himself that chance either. He’d _run away_. One last time he had battled with two men who had once been some of his best friends, and he had run away when he was the last one standing.

Erskine didn’t have the strength to be the last one standing.

And yet he was the only one here, the only one standing between the Accelerator and a power that would destroy the world. Not even his choice.

Not even his choice and even knowing it was something he deserved he didn’t _care,_ couldn’t care, because he was too broken to care, and he _hated_ that, hated the man he’d become who didn’t even deserve the chance for redemption.

 _We always have choices,_ said a voice whispering out from the heart of him, and if he could have Erskine would have cried.

His thoughts and parts of his soul were scattering, being taken by the Accelerator, and still he remembered that voice. It was as if, once all those parts of him had been scoured away, it was the only thing left.

 _Please, not you_.

_Too late._

The light was blinding but it curved around and shone like a corona and seemed to be a shape, and _now_ Erskine screamed, and he couldn’t tell if what he said was in words or thought, except that he had to will them into existence in this sphere of energy pulling apart his being.

_Go away!_

Hopeless shook his head, and Erskine couldn’t tell if the power in the Accelerator _was_ the Accelerator’s, or if it was something else.

 _Please,_ Erskine begged. _Please go away. Let me go._

Maybe a state of pure nonexistence would be peaceful. It had to be better than even the pain of living in exile. Even if that exile was what he really did deserve.

Hopeless shook his head.

_You shouldn’t even be here!_

A smile flickered over Hopeless’s face. _I’m dead. I can be anywhere I want._

_The Accelerator eats souls! Go away! Go away before—_

Before it takes you too.

_If I were anyone else, that would be a problem. But I’m not._

Erskine’s vision was white. Was it his vision? Could he even still see? What would happen to his body, when it was over? Would it be untouched, as if nothing had ever been in there, or was it disintegrating as his soul was taken from it?

He was missing memories. Parts of his life. Parts of his being. He’d done things, terrible things, things he hadn’t even had the decency to keep feeling terrible over enough to accept his punishment when it came. Things he still knew had been because of this man, this being, this Dead Man, before him.

Around him. Hopeless seemed to fill the space where the Accelerator held him, and while Erskine could see his face—sort-of—he seemed so much bigger than just his _face_. It felt as though Erskine was in a crowded room, and the crowd was muffling the sound of something coming through the door.

 _I killed Ghastly and Anton_ , his being whispered, and he wished he hadn’t remembered that. Remembering that made the whole of him cry out in pain and grief.

Then he wondered how he _had_.

_What are you doing?!_

_Saving you_.

_Maybe I don’t want to be saved. Maybe I’m too far gone to be saved._

_You’re not._

_I killed Ghastly and Anton! I killed countless other sorcerers and mortals to put magic on top! I ran away from the field of battle! I doomed the world to save myself!_

_I know._

This, Erskine suddenly knew, this was the worst punishment of all. Worse than the purely physical pain Darquesse had made him endure. Worse than knowing he’d fled and wanting to care and feeling nothing but an exhausted terror driving him to do anything he could to survive. Worse than _knowing_ he was digging himself ever deeper, and unable to see any way out.

This was the worst, right here, seeing the quiet acceptance and understanding on Hopeless’s face and feeling the presence of his soul, so large that it was a crowd, because it _was_ a crowd, because of the countless thousands of people Hopeless had known.

Hopeless. One name. Many faces.

The man who always knew.

_Descry._

Hopeless’s face was wracked with pain, even though that wasn’t possible, because he shouldn’t have a face. Because he was dead. But it was there, because he was putting himself in the way of the Accelerator. Trying to save Erskine from being lost forever.

Trying to give him another chance.

 _Please don’t hurt yourself to save me_. The plea came with Erskine’s intent. It was honest. The most honest thing he’d said in a century. _Please. Please don’t save me._

_I want to._

_I did things._

_I know._

That expression. That pain, like it was a second thought. But in his eyes, those eyes, forgiveness. Love. The only man in existence who could forgive a murderer who made the same mistake over and over again until there was nothing left of whatever good man might have been there.

Erskine couldn’t accept that. He’d never been able to accept that. It was why he’d fallen so far, so hard.

But he didn’t have the strength left to fight. Not seeing that face, those eyes, this soul.

 _Please_ , he begged again, and this time it meant something different. This time it meant: ‘Please help me. I can’t help myself. Please help me be a better man.’

Hopeless smile and he pulled Erskine close and Erskine huddled into the balm of his soul, and knew that the edges of Hopeless’s were being torn away and wanted to care and hated himself more that he couldn’t.

_Give it time._

The soul around him pulsed and something detached, and for a moment Erskine thought something terribly important had been ripped away, and he jolted with a visceral sort of panic he hadn’t even known he still had left. Hopeless held him closer and rested his non-existent chin on the shoulder Erskine didn’t have.

The pulse was caught by the Accelerator’s currents and it dissolved in them like salt in water, and Erskine saw his own face, saw fragments of images and things he had forgotten vanishing into the light. The part of Hopeless that had been forged of Erskine’s own mind while Hopeless was alive, the part that had known all of Erskine’s loves and griefs and pains, and whatever goodness he’d once had. Gone. Traded away, for the raw and broken and utterly useless soul that remained. It was a terrible exchange. Erskine would have cried if he could, and maybe part of him did, but Hopeless only held him tighter.

The Accelerator powered down with a hum, and Erskine was still there. Still present, cradled in Hopeless’s protective soul.

“He was talking,” he said Valkyrie say. She sounded stunned, or would have, but the sound was different. It was coming from very far away, but it sounded clear. Like all at once there was nothing physical in the way to stop him from hearing it on a level more pure than anything he’d known.

“He did,” agreed the Engineer. “I didn’t expect that. I didn’t think he’d have the chance. He said some very strange things.”

Valkyrie turned to Skulduggery. “Who was he talking to?”

Skulduggery stood there in the Accelerator Room, staring at it, staring at them. Erskine wondered if he could see them.

_He can’t._

“Skulduggery?” Valkyrie asked, sounding half afraid. “He’s gone. His soul was meant to be used up, right, Engineer?”

“Correct,” said the Engineer.

“Then who could he have been talking to? Skulduggery?”

“The only person who could have saved him,” Skulduggery said quietly, “or been able to judge if he could be saved.” He adjusted his hat and turned and strode out, and Valkyrie stared for a moment before limping after.

“What does that mean? Skulduggery! Hey, wait up!”

 _Are you ready?_ Hopeless whispered, and Erskine felt the question all through him more as sensation than words.

_Where are we going?_

_A lot of places,_ said Hopeless. _I’ve got a little more weight around these parts than most. We can stay here. We can go somewhere else. We can meet some people. We can be alone for a little while._

Erskine thought about that, though it wasn’t exactly _thinking_ , what he was doing. Darquesse had said she wasn’t really killing people. She was just changing them. Making them energy.

 _She was on the right track … sort-of._ _She was just wrong about one important thing._

_What?_

He felt Hopeless smile and realised with a jolt that his chin was on Erskine’s scarred shoulder, only there were no scars. No physical scars. Only scars in his soul, open and hurting all the more because he was being held, but being held gently.

_Personality, and the soul, matters._

Erskine didn’t answer, or didn’t mean to answer, but something bloomed in him anyway. Something like—like an idea, or maybe a hope. All those people Darquesse turned to energy and never put right. All those people she killed, but didn’t, just turned into something else and hurt anyway because she couldn’t understand why it was wrong. People who deserved to be put back right, if that was even possible when they had been atomised without even being allowed to die.

_We can do that._

_Can we?_

Hopeless’s embrace around him tightened and it hurt and felt like a balm at once. _Like I said. I have a little more weight around these parts than most. And I know people._

_No one will know._

_I’ll know. You’ll know. The others will know. Sharing is caring, and all that._

There was an echo of a familiar voice, a voice that made something in Erskine tremble, and then he realised it was laughter. He felt Hopeless smile again.

_They might even want to help, if you’re up to it._

_I don’t know._

_We have time. Well, to be more accurate we don’t have any, but that just means we have more than enough._

_Saracen would hate that._

_Saracen will have to deal with being bound by the warped laws of physics for a little bit longer. I’m looking forward to it._

_Why?_

_Because he’ll sit down and realise that Dexter and Gracious are here, and Skulduggery has Valkyrie, and he has nothing left, and he and Donegan will go out and find something to fill the gap, and it will take a very long time but eventually I’ll finally get some grandchildren._

Erskine laughed again and while the hurts didn’t go away some of the rawness eased. _That’s going to be some feat, if they insist on doing it together._

He felt Hopeless laugh, and it washed away everything that hurt. The wounds were still there—but for that moment, that eternity, they didn’t pain him. _If you want to watch, we’d better get started with this first. Are you ready, Erskine?_

Erskine. It felt like a long time since he’d been called Erskine and the name hadn’t been spat or said low as if it was a secret, as if it was full of edges that would cut or shatter if mishandled.

 _I’m ready,_ he said, and Hopeless lifted the anchor of his massive soul, and Erskine felt the current of the lifestream take them. He didn’t know how to work it, didn’t know how to get where they were going, didn’t feel as if he had any control at all.

For the first time in a century, he didn’t mind.

_~ finis_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rue the Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243502) by [AmaraqWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaraqWolf/pseuds/AmaraqWolf)




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